


The Last Two

by Multiple_Universes, thelittlenyx (Nyx_Aki)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Horror, Insane Victor Nikiforov, Insanity, M/M, One Shot, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 08:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14101293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multiple_Universes/pseuds/Multiple_Universes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyx_Aki/pseuds/thelittlenyx
Summary: Out on a simple sight-seeing trip, Otabek and Yuri stumble into a little village that doesn't appear on any map, where the villagers are all acting a little odd and there are strange statues out by the sea. What is the terrible secret that claims the lives of all those who search for it?Written for a Bing as part of the Live and Love: A Yuri!!! On Ice Big BangPrompts used: Compare, Horror





	The Last Two

The little village wasn’t far from Folkestone and, like Folkestone, it also had its own beaches, but, unlike Folkestone, where the beaches were very popular in the summertime, here the beaches were always deserted. No swimmer could be seen in the water, no person lay out on the sand, trying to catch the ever elusive English sun. Tourists avoided the place and so it went on existing outside of the rest of the world.

The village didn’t have a name. It showed up on no map. And, yet, time hadn’t reduced it to nothing more than a collection of empty houses and the ghost of a memory.

That bleak August afternoon, two strangers drove into the village on a motorcycle. Parking the bike near the only store in the village, the driver undid his helmet and climbed off.

The driver was a serious-looking young man with dark hair, dressed solely in black. The boy who’d come with him was only several years younger than him. He had short blond hair and a defiant look that didn’t promise anything good to anyone who got in his way.

The door of the store creaked open as they walked in.

“What a dump!” the younger man muttered under his breath.

The driver pretended not to hear him. “Excuse me,” he said to the store owner, “we’re trying to get to Folkestone, but we must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere.”

“Yeah and I can’t get any damned reception around here,” the second traveller added, holding his phone up and frowning at it.

“And our GPS seems to be broken,” the older man added smoothly. “Can you please tell us how to get there?”

“We don’t usually get visitors around here,” the store owner said. He gave them both a smile that was probably meant to be warm and inviting, but was, in fact, neither of the two. The smile went only as far as his mouth, without reaching his cold eyes.

“You don’t say?” the younger man muttered and rolled his eyes.

“And we promise not to trouble you for too long,” the older one promised smoothly.

The store owner walked to the windows and stared up at the sky. “It’s going to rain,” he said.

He turned away from the window and, as if on cue, the already grey sky darkened, lightning flashed and rain tumbled out of the sky in thick curtains.

 “Okay. That was weird,” the younger man said.

The lights in the store flickered.

The store owner returned to the counter, as if nothing extraordinary had happened. “Do you want some tea?” he asked and there was that smile again.

 The bottom of his face was open and happy, but the top was the exact opposite.

The travellers exchanged a look. There was the rain outside and the man offering them tea inside. Normally, the choice was obvious, but still they hesitated.

“We like visitors,” the owner said, walking up to them and stroking each man’s arm. “We don’t get many visitors around here. We like them.”

The younger traveller made a disgusted face. “Yeah. Okay. Do you have an inn around here _for visitors_?”

“We do,” the store owner admitted reluctantly. “It’s just down the street. But don’t feel like you need to go yet.”

“I think we’ll go now,” the younger man muttered, backing away in case the store owner decided to touch him again.

The rain was coming down hard now, but the visitors weren’t going to stay around any longer if they could help it.

They lingered just long enough to peer out of the window and find the inn where they were going and made a run for it.

Five minutes later they were soaked all the way through, knocking on the front door of the inn. They didn’t have a lot of stuff, but one of them had enough presence of mind to grab it on his way.

The door opened and they both pleaded to be let in out of the rain.

“We don’t usually get visitors around here,” the man at the door said, “but –”

“Yeah, we know,” the younger man cut in impatiently. He pushed his way into the house and turned around to wait for his companion.

While the older man apologized for their sudden intrusion the younger one took a look at his surroundings.

The walls were dark. At first glance it looked like they’d been painted a black that had faded over time, but upon closer inspection, the eye could pick out that near the ceiling the walls were lighter, almost white, and that the black wasn’t a coat of paint but made up of lots of spots. Once, the walls had been white, but mould crept in from the floor and worked its way to the ceiling.

There was a small table in the corner, covered in an inch of dust. The vase on it held stems of long-dead flowers.

There were no electric lamps in the room: there was only gas lighting that plunged the room into a yellowish light.

The travellers exchanged a look.

“Listen, we got lost on our way to Folkestone,” the driver tried to explain again. “We wanted to ask for directions.”

“We don’t –”

“Get visitors, yeah we know,” the younger man cut him off impatiently. “Trust me, I believe you. Will you let us stay here until the rain stops?”

The owner stepped into the light and the travellers finally got a good look at him. He was very tall and thin, with hair so light it was almost white. When he’d brushed past him, the younger man had taken their reluctant host for an old man, but now he could see that he wasn’t that old after all. And that, despite all the signs of neglect around them, despite the hollow look in the man’s eyes, it was obvious that he still took care of his appearance.

The older of the two travellers held his hand out politely. “My name is Otabek, and this is Yuri.”

The man started at the name and stared at Yuri. It was an unsettling stare, as if he was trying to find something in Yuri’s face.

Yuri backed away and glared. _What the hell? Haven’t you seen another person before? Oh wait, I forgot: no one visits this dump._ “Do you mind?” he finally snapped back.

Their host blinked as if he’d woken up from a dream. “Victor,” he finally said.

He turned away and left the room, as if he’d decided that no more needed to be said.

“What a weirdo!” Yuri muttered, turning away in disgust. “This whole place is freaking bonkers!”

Otabek said nothing. His eyes were on the portrait that hung in the hall right behind Yuri. It was a large oval oil painting of a dark-haired young man with just the hint of a smile on his face. There was no dust on the frame. In the whole room it was the only thing that was clean.

Thunder crashed. Otabek and Yuri ran to one of the windows. The sky was dark now. Water continued to pour down the windows looking more like a river than rain.

Yuri glared at the rain. “At this rate we’ll be stuck here all night.”

He turned away and then promptly leapt into the air.

Victor stood right behind him. “We don’t usually get visitors around here.”

“Look. We get it. And we’re more than happy to go, but we’re stuck. Do you have any rooms we can stay in?”

“Yura!” Otabek exclaimed in disapproval.

Victor gave them both a blank look, then turned his head to look at Yuri again. “Yes,” he said.

“Then we’ll take them,” Yuri decided.

A nod was Victor’s only reply before he left the room.

“Are you sure about this?” Otabek whispered.

Yuri gave him a confident grin. “Yeah. I know the guy’s nuts, but if he tries anything strange, I’ll punch his lights out. He’s an old man,” Yuri stopped and considered this, “older than both of us, anyway. We can take him.”

But Otabek didn’t share his friend’s confidence. He stared out the window again. “With this much rain,” he said softly, “there’s bound to be a flood.”

“Your rooms are ready.”

They turned at the sound of Victor’s voice. Light fell over his face in a strange way, casting parts of it into deep shadow, especially his eyes.

Yuri and Otabek exchanged a look before following Victor into the house. It was all in the same state of neglect as the lobby had been, but here every available inch of wall space was covered in paintings, each in an ornate frame that was spotlessly clean, each showed the same man as the one in the portrait they first saw.

Yuri ignored the paintings, preferring to keep a wary eye on Victor instead.

They went down a poorly lit hall and then up a staircase until they reached two rooms, each with a number on the door.

Victor opened both doors and handed them a key each before leaving.

“I just hope the bed isn’t covered in dust!” Yuri exclaimed once Victor disappeared down the stairs.

 

_*******_

 

 _We thought we were safe, Yuuri and I._  
  
_You see, we weren’t from here, originally. We settled in from a place far from here, a city where such things were called nightmares and the creature a figment of imagination._  
  
_(72, 73, 74…)_  
  
_We came to this town because it was near the sea, a place that reminded Yuuri of home. It was small, peaceful, and most importantly, it was somewhere the both of us treasured._  
  
_The town was small, the ocean was boundless, and the possibilities endless. We were happy there- I could spend my time painting and sculpting to my heart’s content, Yuuri had the sea and his beloved dance, and Makkachin had plenty of space to run. We were happy, and most of all, we had each other._  
_  
We didn’t notice anything at first. How could we? It was subtle, like the shadows that flee into alleys and dark spaces- we wouldn’t have noticed until it was too late, and the darkness was all around us._

 

_(I’m sorry.)_

 

_*******_

 

They gathered in Yuri’s room afterwards. A shower, a change of clothes and a short conversation later they realized how hungry they both were.

They had no food with them and, strange as Victor was, going to sleep on an empty stomach didn’t appeal to either of them.

“At least there aren’t any paintings in our rooms,” Yuri muttered as they went back down the stairs.

He tried not to look at them and not to think about all those eyes staring out of them. They all had the same expression, that hint of a smile that was almost there, but wasn’t. There was something faded about it, as if all the paintings were copies of one thing.

Yuri stopped and looked, _really looked_ , at the paintings. “It’s not just the same person,” he said slowly as realization dawned, “but the exact same pose, same clothes, same everything! As if someone just drew the same picture over and over again!”

“I noticed,” Otabek admitted calmly. “And I think our host is the artist.”

Yuri turned away from the pictures in disgust. “He definitely looks like someone mad enough to do this!”

They found Victor in the kitchen where he was caressing the face of a bust.

The breath caught in Yuri’s throat as he took in the profile of the man from the paintings. He swore softly.

They backed away. Maybe they weren’t really that hungry. They could always eat in the morning somewhere far away from this village.

The floorboards creaked under their feet, making Victor look up at the sound.

He didn’t look startled or embarrassed that he’d been caught. No, the smile didn’t leave his face: it only got wider.

“You must be hungry,” he said, rising from his chair. “I made dinner.” Victor walked to the stove to fetch the pan and demonstrate its contents.

To Yuri’s surprise, instead of rotten ingredients and overcooked food, the dinner was actually very delicious. Victor barely ate anything, but he _did_ eat. Yuri watched him take the first bite before he ate anything himself.

“What is this dish called?” Otabek asked after ten minutes of eating in relative silence.

“Katsudon,” Victor replied and looked at Yuri.

 

_*******_

 

 _(76. 77.)_  
  
_It was the townspeople, at first. They were friendly, if a little stilted; however, we brushed that off as them being unused to newcomers. It was an obscure town, after all, and they probably don’t see people moving in any other day._  
  
_We soon discovered something strange about their behaviour. It wasn’t that they were hostile- on the contrary, they were perfectly friendly, like they were delighted to have us move in. No, it was something else. Their looks, and their manner of questioning, is what struck me as wrong. Their eyes, their eyes…_  
  
_The people looked cheerful on the outside, but in their eyes there were bars, like they were caging away a secret that ate away at their cores. Every one of them were like that- a veneer of false prosperity cloaking a much, much more fearful being._  
  
_Yuuri was cautious. I was, too, but then, what could I have expected?_  
  
_(I’m SORRY.)_

 

_*******_

 

Yuri turned the lock on his door and then put a chair up against it and loaded it with all the books he could find in the room. He then gathered random objects to pile on top of the books.

He took a bath, put his pajamas on and brushed his teeth. But when he lay down he felt wide awake. He stared at the door.

_He can’t come in. He’s not that strong. Tomorrow morning we’re getting the hell out of here. I don’t care if we’re lost and don’t know where to go. Anywhere is better than this madhouse._

The pile on the chair looked like someone was sitting in the chair. There was someone sitting in the chair and they were watching Yuri try to sleep. They were watching and smiling. They were smiling, smiling…

_Water rolled along the beach, back and forth, back and forth…_

_The sand was cold below his feet and the sun barely gave off any warmth. The salty wind whipped his hair around his face. He pushed it behind his ears, but it broke free anyway._

_He could make out many dark shapes in front of him._

_People? Were those people?_

_There were people coming towards him out of the water, their hands outstretched and their mouths open, but they made no sound._

_They weren’t moving. They were just statues._

_He laughed as he walked around them._

_Yes, just statues: people made of stone stood with the water crashing all about them._

_What a strange place for a work of art!_

_They weren’t all identical. They weren’t some formless beings with barely human-like features. Each had unique features. Here was one of an elderly woman with the figure of a dancer, her long hair tied back in a tight bun. Here was a balding man well past his prime with a big stomach. Here was…_

_Yuri stopped before the front statue._

_A young man was before him with short hair and a graceful figure. Yuri stared into the face that he’d seen Victor caress, the face that stared out of who knew how many hundreds of paintings in the inn…_

__

Yuri awoke with a start. It was just a dream. Nothing more than a dream.

He turned to look at the door, but it was still closed and the pile of stuff on the chair remained undisturbed.

It was just a dream.

He moved all the stuff away from the door and went to brush his teeth.

He wasn’t going to let some stupid dream scare him.

And so he took his time getting ready as if he was enjoying his stay in this inn where everything was falling apart, where one of the taps wasn’t even working, where the owner was clearly missing some of his marbles.

Otabek met him outside his room. “Yuri, it’s not raining anymore. I think we should just go.”

“I’m hungry,” Yuri insisted. “I’m not going anywhere before I have breakfast.”

As he expected, Otabek didn’t even argue.

The paintings watched them go down the stairs and back into the kitchen where, sure enough, Victor was smiling and crooning at the bust as if it was a real person.

“Just a little longer,” Victor said softly and gave the bust a little tap on the nose.

Yuri looked around the kitchen, wondering if there was any possible way of grabbing something to eat and leaving in a way that Victor wouldn’t notice, and went still.

There were two more busts in the room, one in each corner. They must have missed them last night with how dark it was in most parts of the house, but now, with the morning sunlight flooding in from the windows, he could see both of them there, doing nothing, just watching silently.

Victor straightened up and there was a smile on his face. “Breakfast! You must be hungry.”

He sat them down and filled their plates with pancakes and then watched them eat hungrily, following each morsel of food as they put it into their mouths.

“Did you come from far?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Yuri said. He suddenly found he wasn’t in the mood for getting into a lot of details about where they’d come from.

“Must be nice,” Victor said wistfully and for the first time the smile on his face looked truly genuine. “Must be nice to go so far, to be free…”

“Yeah,” Yuri mumbled. _The sooner we get the hell out of here, the better._

“We were on our way to Folkestone,” Otabek said, speaking up at last. “We were going to the beach.”

Victor shifted in his seat. “We have a beach here,” he said and his voice sounded as hollow as a deep well. “It’s very nice there.”

Yuri returned to his food glumly, remembering the dream with the statues.

“I didn’t see the beach when we drove in,” Otabek said. Yuri knew Otabek wasn’t the type to just make conversation. Was he actually considering going there?

“There is a path not far from here,” Victor said and his voice dropped to a whisper, as if afraid that he would be heard. “It leads down, past the cliffs, and to the ocean. First you go down this street until you reach the third streetlamp and then you’ll see a staircase to your right. It leads down to the path along the beach.”

He watched them, waiting for their response.

“People must flock there on days like this,” Otabek said.

Victor smiled and gave them the same answer as before, “We don’t usually get visitors around here.”

“Yeah,” Yuri said sourly.

Otabek was silent again. Yuri had known him long enough to see that something was weighing heavily on his mind.

“It’s very nice on days like this,” Victor added. He got up and turned away to look at the bust. “Very beautiful…” he whispered.

Yuri finished eating and got up. Otabek joined him at the door.

“You should go see the beach,” Victor said, his back still turned to them. He put a hand on the bust’s cheek. “When the sun shines like this and the water sparkles it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”

Yuri looked at Otabek. “I’m sure it is.”

“How much do we owe you for staying here last night?” Otabek asked.

Victor turned and gave them an odd stare. “You’re not going to the beach?”

“Mo-ney,” Yuri explained slowly. “We’re asking how much we need to pay for staying here.” _And somehow managing to survive the night,_ he added mentally. The place was starting to really get on his nerves.

“Where are you going next?” Victor asked in return.

“Folkestone,” Otabek answered.

“Stay here,” Victor said in a choked voice. “It’s … better here. The beach is… It won’t be as crowded as the beach in Folkestone. You must stay here!” Was it Yuri’s imagination, or was there a note of desperation in Victor’s voice?

Yuri looked at Otabek. The whole place was weird, more than that: it was the annoying kind of weird. But he hated crowded beaches, where every centimeter of sand had someone lying on it, or standing on it, where someone’s kid was wailing at the top of their voice and somewhere within earshot two people were arguing loudly about something really stupid. But did he hate them enough to deal with this place and all its annoying weirdness?

Otabek was waiting for him to say something, he knew.

“We need to think about it,” Yuri finally said.

Otabek nodded in agreement.

They thanked Victor for the breakfast and left the kitchen only to stop and whisper in the hallway.

“This whole place is odd as hell,” Yuri muttered, glaring at a wall covered in paintings. “I need some air. Let’s go out for a walk.”

 

*******

 

 _During our time there together, we learned two things._  
  
_First: do not ask questions pertaining to whatever it is they fear._  
_Second: do not acknowledge the disappearances._  
  
_It was quiet and hardly noticeable, but it was a small town, and these things stood out more than they would in the city. The locals who didn’t ignore our questions gave us flimsy reasons for the vanishing residents:_  
  
_“She moved away to live with a relative.”_  
  
_“He’s gone off for a bit. Never said where.”_  
  
_“I don’t know. Not his keeper.”_  
  
_A notable disappearance was the wife of an elderly man a few weeks ago, a tall, stately woman with her dark hair pulled back into a bun. “She has the posture of a dancer,” Yuuri had whispered to me some time ago- and I could see what he meant. Her name was Lilia, and when she disappeared, her husband, once a robust and curt man, seemed to wither, curling inwards, like a wilting flower. In the end, he, too, disappeared and, like all other disappearances, it went ignored. Like everything was alright._  
_  
__Like everything was alright..._

 _(81. 82. )_  
  
_(Please wait. Please, PLEASE, more time.)_

 

_*******_

 

Outside, in the bright sunshine, all their fears and misgivings seemed nothing more than figments of their imagination.

They walked down the street side by side.

Yuri kicked a rock absent-mindedly. “I had a freaky dream about a beach and a bunch of statues standing in the water,” he said and laughed at himself.

He walked another ten steps before realizing that Otabek wasn’t saying anything. He wasn’t even beside him. Yuri turned and saw his friend standing a few steps back and frowning.

“What is it?” Yuri asked, retracing his steps.

“I had the same dream last night,” Otabek admitted. “The statues were odd too,” he added.

“Odd like they didn’t look like statues, but more like people turned to stone?” Yuri suggested softly.

A wind blew through the bushes, rustling through the leaves. Only then did Yuri notice that the street was completely empty.

“So… what?” Yuri asked with a laugh that came out too forced. “Someone is turning people around here to stone?”

Otabek said nothing. Too late Yuri remembered that his friend was superstitious and bit his lip angrily.

Why were there no people outside? Why didn’t a single car go by? Why wasn’t there someone cycling down the street, trying to get some exercise? Why wasn’t there someone walking a dog? Didn’t anyone have dogs in this godforsaken place?

 _Godforsaken_.

There was a lump in his throat. Yuri swallowed.

And then he remembered something else. “I must be going completely nuts. It’s this stupid place. There was a statue of that guy Victor is mad about on the beach. In my dream, I mean.”

“I saw him too,” Otabek admitted just loudly enough for Yuri to hear.

A heavy silence followed those words. No birds sang. No dogs barked. Why weren’t there animals making noises, at least, if the humans were all determined to remain out of sight?

Yuri looked up at the sky. They were near the ocean. Weren’t there supposed to be seagulls here?

But the sky remained empty, clear, oh-so blue and completely devoid of life.

 

*******

 

 _In retrospect, we should have seen it. All of it: clues leading to the devastating, horrible truth. How could I have been so blind?_  
  
_I failed to see. All I saw were the shifting waves of the sea and the gentle smiles of liars, and my Yuuri…._  
  
_….my Yuuri, who I failed._  
  
_(nomorenomorepleasemoretime)_  
  
_My Yuuri, my muse, my love._  
_Gone._

 

_*******_

 

He turned around and saw the third streetlamp right ahead and the top of the railing of the staircase that lead down to the beach.

“Let’s go,” he said softly.

And they went.

 

*******

 

 _They say it comes in the night._  
  
_They say it comes from the sea._  
  
_They say it has eyes like lamps, that snare victims before their souls are reaped._  
  
_They say that referring to its existence will summon its presence._  
  
  
_(93, 94.)_

_*******_

 

Neither of them was in the mood for swimming, or for any of the dozens of other things people do on the beach, but on they went anyway.

The wind blew stronger as they headed down and out to the beach. Sand crunched under their shoes and the sun shone on, offering no warmth. The English Channel was cold and uninviting, its dark waters rolling menacingly. Tall waves rose in the distance and crashed back down again.

Yuri was the first to spot the shapes in the distance and run towards them. “Beka!” he called out as he got close. “They’re here! Holy crap! They’re actually _here_! What the hell?”

He walked around them, taking in all the details. There was the old female dancer. Here was the balding fat man…

They all had vacant eyes and frozen expressions, their arms outstretched, as if trying to reach out for something, as if begging someone who couldn’t be seen. The same cry was frozen on every pair of stone lips. There were statues in the water, going so far back, that only the heads of the last few could be made out among the waves. Were there more beyond that? How far back did they go?

When the water pulled away along the sand it looked as if the statues were walking out of the ocean.

“What kind of –” Yuri began, but the rest of the question froze on his lips.

There was no statue of that guy in the house. The sand was empty where it had stood in their dream.

 

*******

 

 _It was only meant to be a while. He’d gone to walk Makkachin in the evening, when the sun was still setting and the sea still asparkle. He’d loved it, watching the foaming water throwing the scattered light of the red sun into the briny air._  
  
_So I let him go, and I did not see the darkness of the evening press against his figure as he walked away from me and into the gathering shadows._  
  
_And he was taken._

 

*******

 

The sky darkened.

“98,” Otabek said softly.

“W –” Yuri’s throat was dry. He swallowed. “What the – what does that mean?”

 

*******

 

 _For weeks, months, I tried. I tried to get him back. I walked alone in the night to search for him, I begged, implored for me to be taken instead._  
  
_No-one would help.  They were all too afraid. Broken inside, by the invisible chain of the beast that preys on this town.  What I learned, I took by force, driven by a madness borne of grief._  
  
_Those meek souls, who think silence is a refuge-_  
  
_-it eats, from the inside-_  
  
_-feasts at you-_  
  
_-GUILT-_  
  
_(95, 96...)_  
  
_(soclose)_  
  
_I didn’t want to succumb. I didn’t want to muffle my cries. Not when there was still hope._  
  
_Not when I could still save my Yuuri._  
  
_No-one listened._  
  
_But it did._

 

*******

 

“There are 98 statues here. Or, at least, I can only see 98,” Otabek explained.

Yuri rounded on him, but he didn’t shout. His next words came out in a choked voice. “You counted the statues?”

“98,” a voice said and they turned to see Victor coming towards them. “Just two more until 100.”

 

_*******_

 

 **_One hundred souls._ ** ****  
****  
**_The price to relinquish one._ ** ****  
****  
**_Can you remember?_ ** ****  
****  
**_(97.)_ ** ****

_*******_

 

Something moved in the sand. Yuri looked down at his feet. It was just the wind, just the wind blowing the sand up. Sand that went around him in a circle.

“Beka!” Yuri exclaimed, his eyes locking on those of his friend. “I can’t move! It’s like my feet are glued to the sand!”

Otabek tried to raise his feet, but he was just as stuck as Yuri. “Yura! Yura, don’t panic!”

“Don’t _panic_?” Yuri shouted back. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Two more,” Victor said softly and they stared at him.

“What happens now?” Yuri demanded. “Do you shoot us, or something? And then cover us in clay?”

“Yuri!” Otabek shouted.

Victor shuddered and closed his eyes.

 

_*******_

 

_“Can you remember?”_

 

_Yuuri looked up at me, his smile lighting his eyes from within. We held each other close, swaying together to soft music in the light of an early afternoon. Makkachin slumbered peacefully under an open window._

 

_“Remember what?” I murmured into his hair. He laughed, low and sweet, and I wished it would never end._

 

_“The lyrics. To this song.”_

 

_Yuuri rested his head on my shoulder, and the world was as it should be: the two of us, dancing in the sunlight, and Yuuri, so, so close to my heart._

 

_“I do.”_

 

_“Can you sing it for me?”_

 

*******

 

“Why are you doing this?” Yuri screamed. “Are you some sicko sculptor? Is that what it is? Do you kill people to make a work of art?”

Victor turned away and stared out at the ocean. A large wave was rising, larger than all the others, larger than any wave Yuri had ever seen in his life. “100. That’s all I need,” he said. “That’s what it said.”

“What the _hell_?” Yuri pulled at his feet, but still they wouldn’t budge.

 

_*******_

 

 _One hundred._  
  
_(98)_  
  
_Instead of my Yuuri, I am holding his statue._  
  
_How long have I been dreaming?_  
  
_How long...how long have I been silent?_  
  
_How many have I...._  
  
_What’shappeningtome_  
  
_Whathaveidone_  
  
_98._  
  
_Two more. Two more to go._  
  
_And I can save Yuuri._

 

*******

 

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t feel his toes. He could barely move his knees.

“Stop it! Do you hear me?” Yuri screamed. “Whatever the hell it is you’re doing, stop it now!”

“Two more…” Victor breathed out. “I’m so close, but I can’t… I can’t…” They watched a tear roll down his cheek. “I failed you, my dear. I’m so sorry. I can’t do this.”

He drew in a sigh and grabbed Yuri by the arms, yanking him away.

 

*******

 

 _No._  
  
_No._  
  
_Why…?_  
  
_NO._  
  
_whywhywhywhywhywhy_  
  
_BUT I HAVE TO- just two more, just two more, and then I can save my Yuuri- just two more…._

  _...how many...have I killed?_

  
_...how many have I sacrificed?_

*******

 

For a moment they were stuck and then Victor fell back, almost losing his balance.

Yuri broke free of Victor’s hold, as if it burned him, and ran to save Otabek.

“What is he doing?” Otabek asked once he was free.

“Who the hell cares? Let’s get out of here!” Yuri shouted.

“Go!” Victor yelled at them. “Go as fast and as far as you can and don’t ever come back!”

“You bet!” Yuri promised and they ran.

Clouds gathered overhead, dark, menacing, heavy clouds that looked too heavy to be floating in the sky.

They ran with the wind throwing sand up into their faces, with the sea tossing like a restless child. They ran until their lungs and legs hurt and kept going even then, down the path, up the staircase…

At the very top Yuri turned back, feeling safe at last and stopped.

A small shape walked out towards the water as a big wave came up to meet him. It towered high and was the wrong shape for a wave.

 

*******

 _Yuri. His name is Yuri. I. I can’t._  
  
_Yuuri. Yuuri, darling. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry._  
  
_What would you think of me, if you could see me now? Are you seeing me now?_  
  
_You wouldn’t want this, would you?_  
  
_You’d be disgusted with me._  
  
_Ninety-eight lives. Ha. I sacrificed...ninety-eight…_  
  
_I know who the last two will be._  
  
_I know now._

 

_*******_

 

Victor walked out with open arms, greeting the wave like an old friend. There was even a smile on his face. He felt at peace now. No more waiting. No more worrying. He would see his Yuuri soon, he was sure.

“ _Stay close to me, don’t go away_ ,” he sang softly. “ _Let’s leave together. Now I’m ready_.”

He closed his eyes and pulled something out of his inside pocket.

There would be no more statues appearing on the sand, no more people going missing, no more…

 _"Stay close to me_ ,” he sang softly until the water rose, and he couldn’t sing anymore.

 

_*******_

  
  
_Wait for me, Yuuri._  
  
_Stay close to me._

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written as one of the Bings for the Live and Love: A Yuri!!! On Ice Big Bang. (Bings are little warm up fics written in preparation for the main Bang). The art for this fic was made by the talented [frostedchips](https://frostedchips.tumblr.com)!


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